


Pūliki

by CowandCalf



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Coda to 9.11, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Fix-It, Fix-It for the hug, M/M, One Shot, POV Danny, mcdanno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowandCalf/pseuds/CowandCalf
Summary: Steve is unapproachable, trapped in a scary place. He keeps Danny at bay, but Danny doesn't give up.





	Pūliki

**Author's Note:**

> **pūliki** = embrace, hug, put arms around – in Hawaiian
> 
> **A/N**  
>  I needed another hug, a second one. The good kind. A hug that makes my heart leap, creating this good ache in my chest to set things right again. The one hug that let me know the guys are okay, especially Steve. I need the guys to be close and connected.
> 
> 9.11 is an episode that triggered endless buttons and they went all off like rockets. I worked through some of them by writing [three reviews](https://cowandcalf.tumblr.com/post/181747799403/h50-911-hala-i-ke-ala-oiole-mai) and a [long meta about Steve](https://cowandcalf.tumblr.com/post/181835782468/steve-mcgarrett-meta-giving-up-dealing-with) and some of them I needed to wrap up in a short fix-it story. 
> 
> This story is not beta read. My amazing Indie has begun to write a new book. She's busy and fully immersed in her own world. She deals already with all my chapters form my WIP. I fly solo and I apologize for all the typos I've missed and the funny sentence structures that might occur at times.
> 
> **Disclaimer**  
>  I don't own the show or any of the characters. No money is made from my stories. I write to save my soul and for the sanity of my mind. I only claim plot points.
> 
> Big thanks to all of you who drop by to read my story. This always rocks my word. 
> 
> I hope you like it.

The dinner is simple but tasty. Catherine serves one of the canned vegetal soups she has found in Joe's pantry. Buttered toast and scrambled eggs are the side dishes. Danny can't complain. She takes good care of Steve and he also benefits from her various skills now.

They eat in silence with a tensed and awkward mood that weights heavy on Danny's shoulders. Steve's quiet, eating his meal mechanically without lifting his gaze once. Danny and Cath don't exchange more than two sentences and it's all about the weather. No discussion about the bloody job Danny has witnessed this afternoon and no further details get revealed what's going to happen tomorrow. Not while they satisfy their hunger. Steve shoves the last bit on his fork into his mouth only to be up on his feet a second later. He pushes his chair back and walks straight out of the room without another word. Danny tries to force the soup past the painful lump in his throat. He stares down into his bowl.

Danny offers Catherine his help with the washing-up but she ushers him out the door. He's grateful for a break. The surge of jealousy still burns in his stomach. She's not exactly the person Danny has expected to see.

He steps down the few stairs of the porch and leans against one of the wooden posts, admiring the night sky. The darkness is scattered with white dots. Danny's gaze gets drawn to the million of stars blinking in the Montana night. The crisp air almost stings on Danny's cheeks. He zips up his leather jacket when the cold sneaks under his shirt. The temperature change from Hawaii's tropical heat to the cool mountain air still challenges Danny's body warmth. But the cool air isn't the only reason why he shivers. Danny crams his hands down the front pockets of his jeans, heaving a sigh. His eyes scan the premises. Steve can't be far.

The shadows of the night are wrapped around him like a cloak. Danny watches Steve's back. He can only make out his dirty, grey shirt and his bare arms. His movements are rhythmical, as steady as a metronome. Danny has no idea what he's working on. He doesn't take a break, he doesn't change the pace. Danny watches him for ten minutes and he's still busy sorting his thoughts. He has to get this right. Danny pushes away from the post and slowly crosses the meadow to where Steve sits.

There's a simple wooden bench under a big tree close to the coral where two beautiful horses snort from time to time in the darkness. Joe's little ranch is a wonderful place of retreat. Nature is magical. The horrible events an ugly stain.

Danny doesn't really know how to choose the right words or how to start a conversation. Steve isn't in the mood for any small talk, showing no patience to exchange any random, unimportant details. Danny gets that, but he needs to talk. He _needs_ to say the important words, those that he hopes will reach Steve, those that make this unnatural distance between them go away.

He and Steve haven't talked like _at all_ aside from the unfamiliar way of their greeting and his few comments after the cries of pain from Steve's prisoner. The yells have ripped a crack in the peaceful mountain atmosphere. Steve isn't responding to any of Danny's sentences.

With a shaky movement, Danny rubs his hand over his mouth. He's still not over the shock to see Steve's appearance after four weeks. Danny's world tilts the moment he spots his boy. He looks ragged and he's unwashed, his arms and his neck covered with grime. His clothes are dirty and he – damn, Steve carries a shitty bucket filled with water to wash his bloody hands. Danny knows that Steve is in a bad place but he, _Jesus_ , nothing could have prepared him what he's going to run into. Four weeks, for four goddamn long weeks he hasn't seen Steve. Their few phone calls have been monosyllabic and unsatisfying. Danny's stomach clamps around the aftershocks. His lips are a thin line when he takes another breath.

Even Steve's voice has changed. Danny's expression almost slips when Steve greets him. The sound of his voice is a fierce punch to the gut. Steve chokes on his words, bites them off his tongue, his face contorted as if every letter he forms in his throat hurts like splinters of metal. Steve looks like a broken man with his soul scattered like ashes, gone with the wind. And the way he walks – god, the way he walks shows Danny how much Steve's world is out of whack. 

Yes, he understands in which headspace Steve's lost. Danny knows he needs this revenge but it's not necessary to sacrifice his soul and to burn his heart while it's still beating.

Danny is used to violence but this – this feels wrong. Maybe because it's so brutally honest, seeing this side of Steve. How he tortures a guy to draw the much-needed information from him by causing biting, searing pain, working through every horrible trick he has learned. Danny needs time to adapt. But then again, Danny gets it. He gets the way Steve deals with his loss.

He's here to support Steve although he hasn't asked for anything. Although he acts as if Danny's presence isn't welcome, as if Danny's more a burden than an important member of the team for their mission. Danny gulps air when he recalls their short, stiff hug. Steve could hardly stand the quick body contact. He respects Steve's grief and his way to deal with it, but he needs to talk to him. Four weeks of silence are enough.

Danny can't stop staring at Steve's back. His hands are busy, and a constant tension holds him together. He leans forward, and his shoulders are constantly pulled up. Danny knows Steve clenches and unclenches is fists when he thinks he isn't looking. He's still not used to that haunted look in Steve's eyes and how one hand always sneaks up to his knife, checking if the blade is in its sheath. 

Danny's legs feel like lead and the closer he gets the harder his heart beats in his chest. Steve's knife isn't where it's normally dangling from his belt. He takes another calming breath. The air shudders down Danny's lungs. It doesn't help. He sets his jaw and ignores the tight feeling in his stomach. His reluctant steps carry him closer to Steve.

Danny walks past the bench and ends up with his forearms propped up on the wooden fence. He knows Steve needs him and he also knows that he will never ask for Danny's help because his rigid back screams a direct message. 

Danny understands all of this. He has been there, knowing how this pitch-black darkness fills Steve from the inside, incapable to reconnect with the outer world. That's one of the reasons why Danny keeps a distance between him and the bench where Steve tries to ignore him.

He's still having a hard time to accept the fact that Steve hasn't called him after Joe died, ordering him to jump onto the next plane to Montana. Instead, Danny is confronted with Catherine and it seems she has settled in quite fine. Steve hasn't mentioned a damn word about her. Danny wipes a hand over his face, sighing silently. He's not here to be angry or to question Steve's motives. Steve and Catherine plan a secret mission. Danny has come up here to support Steve in every way he can – if Steve lets him.

He shoots Steve a glance over his shoulder. He doesn't interrupt his work and with no twitch of his muscles, he acknowledges Danny's presence. It's really cold, and Danny has no idea how Steve can stand the constant wind by wearing only his grey shirt. The air tears softly at the loose fabric around Steve's upper body. He has lost weight.

Danny flinches for a split second when he recognizes what Steve's working on. He carves a spearhead in a wooden stick. Danny squeezes his eyes shut and tenses up by the clear image of a bloody, heavily beaten up lawyer with a thick wooden spear rammed into his chest. He hopes Steve only busies his unsteady nerves.

He straightens his spine, stuffs again his hands into his pockets with his back turned to Steve. Going mad is easier, more alluring because everything makes more sense when the insane rage rears its ugly head, holding the grief in check. It's easy to lose the grip on reality even as a highly trained SEAL.

Danny's going to support Steve in the same way he has been there from him when he went crackers over Matt, committing cold-blooded murder. Danny hasn't even expressed his condolences to Steve. He's said it over the phone but not in person. 

The wind rustles in the trees and Danny turns around, his eyes flying over to where Steve sharpens the thick piece of wood. The beard suits him well. Danny keeps his hands hidden in his pockets. Steve wouldn't be okay with any touching, no reaching out for now. Danny knows he wants to be left alone. Steve's behavior triggers every alarm in Danny's head. He gets why he's been pushed away. Steve wants to chase him away with his behavior, to make him angry so he packs his bag and jumps in the car to drive back to the airport.

But Danny trusts his gut that's why he stays close and heads for the bench. He notices the tiny jerk of Steve's head. 

"Carving a weapon?" Not the best question to open a conversation. But Danny flaps with his hand in this dark place Steve creates around him and there's only so much he can do. The try-and-error basis it is.

Steve stops, inhales a ragged breath and resumes work on his wooden stick. "Distraction." His voice is gruffer than anything Danny remembers.

"Is the lawyer still alive?" Okay, that – whatever.

Steve doesn't answer at first, and he doesn't stop carving. "You looked shocked. I saw your face and all the questions you didn't ask. I won't answer any of them. I do it my way." Steve's voice is unfamiliar rough.

Danny kicks the grass with his shoe. "I know that you have your own way to deal with Joe's death. I wasn't prepared to run into a full-blown torture scene the moment I get out of the car. Give me some slack here, Steve. I needed time to get used to my surroundings and to reset my mind. I was only shocked about your looks, Steve." He tilts his head and waits but Steve doesn't want to meet his eyes. "You look terrible." There is a fondness in his voice, but Danny knows that he's said the wrong words, seeing it confirmed in the way Steve's head jerks up.

"I'm not really up to take an active part in a beauty contest." He bites out with a nervous flicker in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Steve. I'm worried. Joe's death – all the events, they're hard on you." Danny would bet to know how Steve's going to reply.

"I'm fine," Steve says with a flat voice.

This answer that only highlights nothing but Steve's repression of feelings to so many terrible situations has worn thin in Danny's ears.

"You didn't need to come, Danny, you know," Steve adds with a murmur.

"You're not fine, Steve and you know it. And yes, I had to come. I've already told you that this is what family stands for. That's what family does for each other. I would have come earlier if you'd have let me." Danny is ashamed how bitter and harsh his answer sounds. "I'm here for you, Steve," he adds way softer, his voice appeasing. But he knows he has hit a sore spot when Steve's knife slips, breaking the rhythm on his woodwork.

"It's getting dirtier and more dangerous. I have… people, you don't need to – " Steve's hand pauses.

That stings. Danny purses his lips and inches his way forward, closer to the bench. Steve turns his head to the other side, hiding his face from him.

"I belong to your people, too Steve. I'm _ohana_. We know each other's moves in our sleep. You need me. I'll have your back, whenever, wherever." Danny senses the steely walls Steve pulls up around him. Danny shivers in the cold, his muscles tense.

"It's good to see you, though. It is, Danny but you have Grace and Charlie. There's no need to be here. It's – I'm not… it's going to be dangerous. I don't want you around danger. Not this type. I can't protect you." The wind steals Steve's low words from his lips.

Danny hardly understands his last sentence. He fists the material of his jeans pockets to keep his hands from shooting up into the air. "I can protect myself. I'm your partner, Steve, for crying out loud. You could have called me, let me in on your plans. I would have jumped on a plane at any given moment. You have hardly talked four words with me since I've arrived." Danny explains louder to drain out the upcoming gust of wind. He tries hard to keep his voice steady.

Steve wipes the blade clean at his jeans and slides it back into its sheath. A single, swift move. He turns the wooden stick with a flick of his wrist and with a sharp move Steve throws it like a spear. It flies and ends up stuck in the ground, bouncing slightly back and forth. Danny starts to worry if Steve is going to answer any time soon. He just sits there and watches the bouncing stick.

"You don't seem to want to be a part of this mission. You've said it yourself – you have no passport, Laos is anyway too far away and we're way too small to make an actual group. What shall I do with that?" Steve stands up, slowly and measured. His voice has this cautious, controlled tone. He never really looks Danny in the eye. "I don't want to talk, Danny – it's difficult. Talking doesn't help. Can we please leave it be?"

The sudden wave of sadness makes Danny shift on his feet. "I'm sorry, Steve, so very sorry for your loss. I know how much Joe has meant to you. I know, Steve, believe me – I know what you're going through. I have your back." Danny takes another step. "Let me be here for you. I know the danger. I can handle it. I don't need… I can protect myself. We protect each other like we always do." Danny talks calmly and thoughtfully. He has a hard time reading Steve's face. "I was joking, trying to lighten up the dark mood this afternoon. You know that I'm on your team. I need to be on your team." 

Steve dodges Danny's step forward and creates a new distance. He sees how Steve works his jaw. His next words must bother him a lot. 

"I don't want to talk, Danny. I've told you once that the McGarrett men deal differently with feelings. I need you to let it go… please, just leave it." Steve's eyes roam over the dark horizon. He fixates his look on a spot behind Danny's head. "I can't deal with… there's nothing to talk about. Joe's dead and we'll find the man who did it. I don't want to –" Steve voice breaks. The curve of his shoulders sag and he turns his face away, not allowing Danny to see anything. Steve rubs his forehead with his fist. "I don't want to feel – anything." His voice grinds the words out and Danny's heart stumbles over the all the hidden pain. "That's why I haven't called you." Steve stares straight ahead. "I'm sorry, Danny. I – I just can't," he hesitates one moment longer before he turns and starts walking.

Danny squints in the dark, his face scrunched up. "I get that, Steve. I don't want you to talk about your feelings." Danny doesn't dare to reach out to grab Steve's arm. So, he keeps stringing words together. He speaks up. "Just let me be there for you, hey – babe… " Danny feels how the hard clump in his gut, the one he has ignored so far, leaking a blaze of emotional anguish into his bones, into his heart – and into his voice. "Please… Steve, stop – would you please, stop… walking away from me." He feebly gesticulates with both hands before they drop back at his side.

Steve only turns half-way around. "I'll deal with it when the time's right. Not now. Just don't –"

"I still don't understand why you haven't called me. Four weeks, Steve. What do you mean with the I-make-you-feel-things? Steve, can we…?" Danny watches how Steve just walks on. He can't hold on to his collected, reasonable demeanor. Danny's breath hitches and he swallows several times. His stomach is hard as stone.

"And Catherine? Doesn't she make you feel… things?" The jealousy sticks to his words like resin. He feels sorry about the way he calls after Steve. This situation is not about him. Danny clears his throat in shame. He hugs himself with both arms. He mutters mostly to himself because what's the point, but Steve hears him anyway.

"Joe was also a part of Catherine's life." A few feet away Steve leans against the fence. 

"I know, of course, I know. I'm sorry. That's why you've called her?" Cath has burned Steve's heart with a flamethrower. She has no right to be in his life anymore. At least not with emotional closeness. She would only find another chance to stab Steve's heart for the umpteen time.

Danny behaves unreasonable and unfair. Joe was a close friend of Catherine, too. Danny has no right to throw an emotional tantrum. He wraps his arms closer around his shivering chest.

"Catherine and I have a past, Danny. We were on different missions. She's reliable and solid in the field. I need her way of thinking. I need her knowledge. She knows Greer. She's part of that past. I need this. She's CIA and she has extremely useful connections. We need a plane and some other favors from important people. She provides that." Steve hooks his thumbs into his belt loops and talks slowly, his voice hoarse but steady, loud enough for Danny to hear every word.

Danny inhales sharply and turns his face to stares at the dark pasture.

The wind carries Steve's low words over to him. "You make me feel… things, Danny. You – look… I can't Danny. I need a clear mind. Catherine is – with her… she doesn't. She's a friend. There's nothing more to it." 

Danny watches Steve. He digs in the ground with his boot. He seems indecisive if he should stay or if he should just turn around to walk further away from Danny, back to the cabin, escaping this immense pressure of their talk.

Danny holds it together. He can't figure out what Steve wants to tell him. Why are they still trapped in the same stupid moment? Steve's last words don't make much sense. It's the most terrible moment, highly inadequate, to think anything else but to support Steve in his mission.

But – but Danny can't ignore Steve's voice and the way his last words tumbled hesitantly and heavy from his tongue. Uncomfortable hotness surges through Danny's nervous, hard stomach. For a fleet second, he's tempted to rest this face in his hands. He's exhausted. Danny forces his hearing on the sound of the wind and the grazing horses. He doesn't want to hear Steve's retreating steps.

Danny shakes hard. The cold takes a toll on him and he can't handle the fallout of this unsatisfying discussion. When he turns around to head back to the cabin, he spots Steve immediately. He just stands there with his hands buried in the back pockets – waiting. He has stopped in the middle of the meadow on his way back to the cabin. He hasn't left.

Danny pushes himself off the fence. He walks over dry twigs and he steps on leaves that crunch under his sole. He gives Steve a chance to change his mind. Danny clears his throat before he enters Steve's personal space. He doesn't want to think anymore. He just acts out of instinct and carefully curls his finger around Steve's arms. When Steve doesn't flinch, Danny rubs his palms up and down Steve's muscular shoulders. He can't hug him from behind, that's – terribly intimate – Danny would want exactly that. To just to press Steve into his chest, giving him the feeling, he's not alone in all of this and that he doesn't have to fight his demons alone – but Steve wouldn't want that. He has said he doesn't want to feel, and Danny tries to keep his comfort neutral.

"I didn't mean to upset you." Danny scrunches up his face. He inhales twice before he tries again. His hands hold on tight. Steve doesn't pull away and Danny doesn't stop his soothing circles, rubbing with his hands over his shoulders, Danny steps even closer. Steve's skin is so cold under his hands.  
"I'm sorry, Steve. I love you. I get it. You don't want to talk so, we don't talk. But please hear me out. I'm – I thought you would reach out to me – to ask for my help. I want – I thought I would mean more to you. I've hoped you would trust me enough to be there for you in this difficult time. I don't want to be selfish, Steve. I'm sorry. If you need other people to carry you through this rough time, I'll support you in every way I can." Danny hates to talk to Steve's back, but he has caused enough harm already. He knows when it's time to back off. "I'm sorry – I' sorry for your loss, sorry for your pain and the last thing I want to do, is to cause you more pain. I can't be in Hawaii not knowing what's going on. I need to be with you." He presses his lips together and wills his tight throat to relax. His words leave a sore feeling in his mouth. "I want to be with you on this mission, Steve. Give me any task you want. Anything that makes you feel okay, that suits you. We do it your way."

Steve remains quite but Danny thinks his upper body just jerked. "Babe… I'm, I'm just here to help. I don't want to make it worse." Danny leans in, following this aching yearning to do something for Steve. He rests his forehead against Steve's back, tired of their argument. He holds on to Steve's shoulders. He hopes he doesn't disregard Steve's wish.

Steve stand still, accepting his touch. Danny watches with dread swirling in his gut how Steve slowly turns around. His face is all wrinkles and furrowed brows. He shakes his head in a 'no' motion and Danny can't translate what he wants to tell him.

"Steve, please, I need to know why you haven't called me. Why you don't want me up here, by your side. I don't get it. I really don't. I promise that's my last question." Danny steels himself for Steve's denial to grant him an answer.

But Steve ducks his head and nods several times. His hand comes up and Danny can't control the ragged sound when he inhales. Steve cups the side of his face tenderly. His hand is cold, and his palm feels leathery and rough against Danny's skin. Danny acts instinctively when he presses his face into Steve's big hand while his heart knocks frantically against his chest.

Steve's thumb grazes over his cheekbone and glides over the corner of his mouth before Steve steps in, curling his fingers around Danny's neck. Steve's finger trail alongside his hairline. Danny all but melts into his touch.

"You have no idea what you mean to me, Danny. You're more than ohana." It's the first time since Danny's arrival that Steve searches for his eyes to really look at him. Danny squeezes his eyes tight shut against the way his heart crashes under the vulnerability in Steve's voice. "I can't lose you, Danny. I – " The words are a broken sound in the wind.

And Danny almost tumbles backward when Steve's walls crumble and the emotions in Steve's words let his heart almost leap out of his chest. Danny listens and he reaches for Steve's hand at his neck, cupping it with his own and holds himself still for a long, long moment, looking Steve in the eye.

"I need to know that you're safe. I wanted you in Hawaii because… because when I return home, I need – " Steve's hand presses down on the muscles at Danny's neck, "I need to know you're there, waiting for me, Danny." Steve chokes out the last words. "I need to know you're alive – waiting… I need you to be there when I come home."

Danny has no idea how he makes his voice speak the words. "We're going to be fine, Steve. We're going home together. We'll make it out alive together, both of us. We'll be okay. You hear me, babe?" Danny swallows past that sob, past the burning hotness in his eyes. He will be strong for Steve. He opens his arms. "Come here," Danny whispers softly with a thick voice.

And Steve just goes.

Danny pulls him into his strong arms. "I can't lose you, Danny." The words roll like heavy stones from Steve's tongue and Danny's face gets mushed against a hard plane of strong muscles when Steve tucks him against his chest. Steve's hand rests solid and firm at the back of his neck. Danny just holds on for dear life. His arms sneak around Danny's body and he lets Steve hide in this safe space when their bodies touch. Danny catches him easily when the hard strain on his muscles loosens up and Steve starts to sway in his arms.

This hug – it's him and Steve again and the way they always hug each other. Honest and tight and with a mutual love that can't be undone.

Danny presses Steve into him. His arms are a solid guide to hold Steve upright, sliding upwards over either side of Steve's sides, pushing up his shirt. Danny caresses his back with his hands in big, calming circles. Danny's breath feels hot and damp against Steve's dirty shirt. He smells of old sweat, wind and the distant scent of clothes that were stored too long in the attic. Steve's beard scratches against Danny's skin and his face his hot against his throat. Danny welcomes every single touch, every smell, every inch of Steve with beatitude.

"Thank you for coming."

Danny almost misses Steve's muffled words he speaks into the collar of his leather jacket. "I got you. I'm here. It's going to be okay, Steve." For a long time, they just stand there, hugging each other, reconnecting, turning the axis of their world back into balance. "I got you, babe."

Catherine's voice ends the momentary peaceful and magical moment. "Guys! Coffee is ready!" She shouts to reach them by the corral. 

Steve takes one step back and slides his arms slowly over Danny's back, squeezing his neck with his hand one last time. His eyes are dark pools and Danny lets go but Steve's arm shoots up from nowhere and plucks Danny's hand from the air, pressing it back against his chest. Steve's fingers curl around his hand, holding on so carefully as if he holds a butterfly in his fist. Danny digs his fingers into Steve's pecs, meeting his questioning gaze.

"I'm with you, Steve. I'm here. We'll return home together." Danny heaves a sigh when Steve's expression relaxes. "I love you, babe. Let's go an find a jacket for you and I could use some strong, hot coffee." Danny fondles Steve's shirt with his fingertips. "We'll be okay."

"Okay." Steve still hugs his fingers with his hand, rubbing with his thumb gentle circles into the back of Danny's hand, just watching him with new clarity in his eyes.

 

-The End-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr](https://cowandcalf.tumblr.com/)


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